


Damned

by wilbell



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 06:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6503893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilbell/pseuds/wilbell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver has never been one for making good decisions. Barry didn't deserve to get caught up in his messes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damned

**Author's Note:**

> I just started watching Arrow and I think I'm in too deep with these two. I might follow this up with another chapter.

He shouldn’t be here.

That thought, pounding in his head like a mantra, did little to stop Oliver from running his hands down the lean body before him. He heard the harsh panting that the younger man was exerting, felt the soft skin beneath the concealing fabric. The brush of fingers against his face, warmth caressing his cheeks, had Oliver opening his eyes to the soft gaze of the man whose mouth he was so preoccupied with.

Barry drew a breath as Oliver pulled back an inch, grasping at his shoulders like they were the only things still keeping him standing, which Oliver didn’t doubt.

What were they doing? What was Oliver thinking by coming here? About how good Barry’s bare skin felt rubbing against his own, apparently.

Oliver never intended for circumstances to escalate into a frenzy of tongues and touches, but it stands to say that he’s never been that great at denying the temptations of a pretty face. Barry had looked so upset, so in _need_ of something Oliver only knew how to give in one way, and perhaps that will be the cause of his inevitable downfall.

His rash decisions and eventual regret played their part through many different contenders within the course of his life - Sara, Laurel, Helena, McKenna - it was a list that continued further on than Oliver liked to admit, and not one person he tainted with his touch was spared from some form of injustice at his hands. He couldn’t bring Barry into the trainwreck that was his love life without the risk of him getting hurt, yet that realization didn’t hinder his quick removal of Barry’s shirt.

It wasn’t that long ago when Barry had discovered his newly granted powers, at the courtesy of the particle accelerator mishap, and had come to Starling City with more questions than Oliver had answers for. Seeing the man in such distress, it struck a chord in him, one that wouldn’t sit still until he found the will to visit Barry in Central himself. He had to see how the young scientist was fairing, had to make sure he was handling the situation alright, because Oliver certainly harbored a background full of traumas at the cost of his own abilities.

They met without any issue, Barry surprised by Oliver’s spontaneous visit to Central City solely resting on no other reason than to check on his well being. There was nothing awkward permeating the air between them, so Oliver didn’t heed to any subconscious warning about why accepting Barry’s invitation back to his house was _not a good idea._

Oliver could see why now, though, but found himself too lost in everything that was Barry Allen to really care.

His grip on Barry’s hips was sure to leave bruises and couldn’t have been entirely comfortable, but the mouth pressing against his was as eager as ever. Desperate, Oliver pushed Barry further back into the wall, grinding them together and relishing in the amazing friction their bodies created. He felt more than heard Barry release a low moan.

“Oli- _ver_ ,” his name, spoken in such a soft and wanting voice, sent the archer over whatever edge he had been on the brink of, finally falling into another passionate sin.

He should be thinking of Felicity, of her disappointed eyes findings his, shaming him without the need of any words. She had a way with him, and could make him feel more horrible than he knew was possible. Was he betraying her? He wasn’t too sure. He loved Felicity, of course he did, she was a vital part of his life. It wasn’t hard for him to feel something for the beautiful woman, and there’s been many instances where he’s sure her feelings breached the lines of a normal friendship, though he had no proof of that. They could have had something between them, if only Oliver had acted sooner.  

Felicity liked Barry from the first time they met, of that he was sure, but Oliver could be reading into their relationship wrong. Were they just friends, or something more? Did feelings still exist between any of the three of them? Was this ruining their future?

If Oliver could just summon the will to voice one question then maybe he’d feel less guilty about the quickly escalating situation.        

Grabbing Barry’s thighs, Oliver hoisted the other man into his arms, carefully maintaining his weight while forcing them closer together, starving for the connection. By the way Barry held tightly onto his neck, working his mouth hungrily over the one below his, Oliver had no doubt that the kid wanted this as much as he did, any other factors of their love lives be damned.

_Sorry, Felicity._

Barry’s legs shook as they wrapped themselves around Oliver’s hips, squeezing tightly to press their fronts closer together, Barry soon making an effort to grind into the hardness in Oliver’s pants. The billionaire almost saw stars at the sensation, his stomach twisting in ways that felt so wrong and so good. 

Oliver found it difficult to keep standing, staggering backwards as if his knees might buckle at any second. The bed hit the backs of his legs and he made quick work of dropping Barry onto the cushion, immediately repositioning himself between the long legs of the runner. Mouths met once again as Oliver pressed their bodies back into each other, touching everywhere his hands could get.

Was Barry destined to be another one of Oliver’s regrets? Probably not. The younger man was too innocent for that, too pure to have fate taint him. This was Oliver’s own doing, his interfering in whatever Barry should actually be doing tonight, like hanging out with Iris or Cisco and Caitlin, saving lives and being a hero..

Not moaning under Oliver Queen, who only ever managed to hurt the people he cared for.

Hands threaded through his hair, distracting Oliver from his derailing thoughts, wiping away the worry he tried so desperately to hang onto.

Clothes were thrown to the floor as touches worked their way downwards. Oliver no longer thought about Felicity or Laurel or anyone he ever had the misfortune of betraying because being between Barry’s spread legs and feeling the mind numbing heat of finally, _finally,_ pushing inside, hearing the whines of want and feeling the blunt nails clutching at his back, the open mouth gasping underneath him, green eyes staring into his…

Oliver moaned, thoughts clouded with _Barry Barry Barry_ and how amazing this felt, the privilege of the intimacy they were sharing, how nothing else could even compare.

Later, when the hormones and sexual frustration faded from the rational part of Oliver’s brain, the older man found himself staring at the unfamiliar ceiling above him, a warm weight pressing against his side, a constant reminder of the actions he never should have let get the best of him.

Barry breathed softly, oblivious to the torments tearing Oliver up inside. His hand mindlessly rubbed down Oliver’s chest before succumbing back to unconsciousness. Barry was content with what happened, Oliver realized, the fact nearly stunning him. Barry should have kicked him out long ago, enraged by the advantage Oliver took over his susceptible self. Instead he was sleeping beside the body that had been pressing inside his own not two hours earlier, completely vulnerable to whatever Oliver desired.

Not that Oliver had ever harbored any intention of hurting Barry, physically or emotionally. He may have already crossed a line of no return, but that didn’t mean he needed to irritate whatever wounds the two of them opened by sleeping together. They could still function in their daily lives, regardless of the guaranteed awkwardness that would appear in their future interactions. It would take time, but the wounds would mend and one day they might be able to act like friends again. He handled worse situations before and escaped alive.

Plus, seeing Barry so at ease beside him, Oliver couldn’t muster the energy to disturb the sleeping man.  

Without allowing any other thoughts to discourage his actions, Oliver surrendered to the night, his arm slipping gently over Barry’s lean frame, deciding whatever regrets he would come to have could wait until morning.

This was all that mattered, the rest of the world be damned.


End file.
